


Archivision

by kopescetic



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- Wandavision Fusion, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Monster Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Poetry, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, There Will Be Worms, if you havent :) have fun, if youve seen wandavision you know whats up, will add to the tags as chapters come out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopescetic/pseuds/kopescetic
Summary: The Magnus Archives is an office comedy where nothing bad happens ever. Right? Right???
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Archivision

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!!!! You don't have to have seen Wandavision to read this! i will update the tags per every chapter that comes out.

the wind was constant.  
blowing, biting  
urging him to go forward in this direction or that.  
no clear direction, no knowledge  
no future, no past  
nothing besides the constant, thrumming reminder in jon's head.  
_to London. to London._

everything was cold here. everything burned.  
jon could not remember being warm  
or, he could, but he tried not to  
for fear that reminder would make comparison worse

he knew what the wind didn't  
some flesh-deep part of him _Knew_  
he couldn’t _See_ what awaited him there,  
couldn't see further than his own feet  
but he _Knew_ the way  
and so he walked

through water  
through wind and fire  
through bubbling, scalding sands

through villages rife with sickness of the mind and skin  
through neighborhoods quaint and normal, except for the deep deafening silence  
through fog so thick jon thought he would choke on it

through fear so sharp and acrid that jon did choke.  
and from the sputtering, the wheezing  
he gasped out eulogies for the damned whom he could not help  
and he kept walking.

it was almost like breathing  
he sucked in the sweet soothing thrum of terror  
a familiar constant  
and spat out salt into the wound of the world.

he could not remember being anything but this;  
serving any other purpose but this  
or, he could, but he did not want to,  
for knowing you were once good does not change the fact that you will never be again

his feet were bloody and bound to the deep, shapeless plane he walked on  
with an unsteady hand and an outstretched arm  
he _Knew_ which way the wind blew  
and he kept the steady, death-drum pace  
_to London. to London_.

he breathed in fear, spat it back out again  
as if sucking the marrow from the bones of a long finished meal  
picking at _His_ table scraps  
he wasn't hungry- hadn't felt any such human feeling since as long as he could remember  
this was simply what _The Archivist_ did, simple as breathing

 _He_ was sated  
jon was sated, and yet…  
wasn't there something missing?  
didn't there used to be heat?  
didn't there used to be a Reason?


End file.
